


The Cruelty of Timing

by theanticroydon



Category: The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Menstruation, Mild Smut, My First Fanfic, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25757467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theanticroydon/pseuds/theanticroydon
Summary: What we didn't see of Stella in Belfast.
Relationships: Stella Gibson/Reed Smith
Comments: 19
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic! TYSM to my girls for all the support xx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia Spector has locked herself in the PSNI station bathroom.

“Olivia? Are you alright?” 

Gail knocked softly on the bathroom door. No one could imagine what was going through the mind of Spector’s only daughter, having just hugged her Daddy goodbye under the sterile light of the family interview room. 

Sally-Ann had been distant long before the arrest, and the way she'd break apart at any second disturbed both of the children. But Olivia, close enough to know too much, felt especially small and alone inside this new unknown. She was growing up, and the understanding it afforded her left her beyond confused, beyond afraid. She was empty. 

“Olivia, can you hear me?” Gail asked with growing concern. 

She could hear Olivia’s breath through the cubicle door, rapid and shallow. That of a child, who'd been stripped of everything that held her world together. 

“Are you able to turn the lock?” Gail asked as the breathing quickened. “You’re okay Olivia. I need you to breathe with me. In... and out. Slowly. In... and out. I’m going to help you open the door from outside, okay?” 

“Don't!” Olivia's tears came all at once. “Just go away!” she pleaded. ”Go away and leave me here. Just leave me!” 

“What about Mummy? Will you open the door for her?” 

“Not... Mummy” she breathed between sobs. A moment passed, then quietly: “... the lady... the lady from before.” 

Olivia had met Stella twice now. The lady who'd taken her hand gently as she guided her into the white room. The room with the toys that could care less if you played with them, and the light that bounced off the walls and made you feel like you were in a fish tank. Stella never spoke a lot but her hands were soft, and she smelled like lotion. She looked at Olivia with care and softness in her eyes, and the sound of Stella's voice made her feel all warm in her tummy. Olivia hadn’t felt safe like that for a while now. 

The staff bathroom was cold, somehow accentuated by the echo in the room. The heavy door from the hallway opened with urgency, followed by the clack of high heels across the concrete floor. 

“Olivia darling, are you okay?” Stella touched her hands to the outside of the closed cubicle door. The intimacy of her connection with the Spector case had forged an undeniable tie between she and Olivia, ever since she learned he had a daughter. “ _Does she love her Daddy?_ ” she had pressed him, the day she'd gifted him her private number. A teaspoon of sugar, before she'd spat vinegar down the phone and into his world. Meeting Olivia in person, however briefly, had tugged at her chest. 

“I think I’m hurt” Olivia finally answered tearfully, her Belfast accent a heart wrenching reminder of just who had failed her. Stella’s breath caught briefly at the back of her throat. 

“Sweetheart, Is there blood?” 

Stella made quick work of the hallway keeping an eye out for Gail, and wondering if Dani was about the station. Having instructed Olivia to clean herself up the best she could, she was mindful of leaving her alone too long. Musing on the cruelty of timing and the absence of Sally-Ann, she swallowed, hard. It would seem that the destruction left in the wake of Paul Spector indeed knew no bounds. “Where are we at with Sally-Ann?” Stella queried Glen as she passed him near the break room. “She’s in with McElroy,” he offered “and not in the best shape, I’m afraid. We’ve delegated the care of the children to the Grandmother for the weekend, at least. She’s on her way but she’ll be a fair drive.” 

Stella exhaled defeatedly as she kept pace toward her office. She located her handbag and unlatched the side pocket, her slender fingers pushing aside a wrapped Hilton brand chocolate, a pocket mirror and a tampon, before uncovering a thin panty-liner in a pale pink packet. She sighed at the futility of it as she slipped it up her cashmere sleeve. 

“Ma’am,” Gail and Stella all but collided at the doorway, “luck with Olivia?” 

“Gail,” Stella attempted a smile, “just the face I wanted to see.” She furrowed her eyebrows softly as she asked, “do you think you can track down a sanitary pad?” 

"Oh," Gail murmured softly in understanding. “Of course, Ma’am... I’ll not be long.” 

Feeling confident she wasn’t going to find what they needed amongst her colleagues, Gail thumbed the car keys in her coat pocket and headed for the lobby. Stella in turn made for the bathroom, the edge of her sleeve pinned between her modestly manicured nails and her palm. 

“It’s only me,” Stella announced as she opened the bathroom door, leaning the weight of her frame against it. Relieved to find no one had come in while she was away, she turned the lock so they could have some privacy. Timing was cruel, and the fates had dealt this setting for good measure. 

“How are you managing, Olivia?” she asked gently, navigating the situation with delicate intuition. 

She didn’t answer, but the kindness in Stella’s voice had her lip quivering as tears welled in her eyes. The tiniest of sobs reminded Stella that Olivia was just a child, with a tiny body that had thrust her into an adult world she had already seen too much of. A child who right now needed someone to help her before she could help herself. 

“Darling, is the blood on your underwear?” Stella asked with assuredness, anxious to get Olivia out of the chill of the bathroom. But the weeping only continued. 

“It’s fine sweetheart. I promise it’s going to be okay. But I need you to hand them to me. Will you do that, darling?” 

Moments later, a small but fleshy hand passed the balled up cotton under the cubicle door. Stella blotted a small stain at the sink, and held them under the hand dryer for as long as she could bear to make Olivia wait. She pressed the liner’s sticky back against the fabric, before folding the underwear and passing them under the door. 

Olivia emerged slowly from the cubicle, tear streaked and pink. Stella was taken aback by how small she seemed in this moment, a familiar helplessness in her eyes as she moved toward her. Olivia didn't hesitate as she leaned her cheek against Stella’s abdomen, the weight of her tiny body resting against her legs. As she heard Olivia's breathing begin to slow, Stella knew this wasn't the time for words. Time could pass without them, for now. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stella struggles emotionally with the Spector case after her time with Olivia. She returns to her room at the Hilton that evening, in need of releasing some tension.

“Do you think she understood what was happening to her?” Gail asked Stella, the two of them seated on the couch in her office. 

“I wouldn’t think so.” 

They said nothing for a moment, the late night sounds of downtown Belfast punctuating the silence. 

“Sally-Ann’s being monitored at a respite facility” Stella explained. 

“How long?” 

“A few days. There’ll be an assessment. Going off of McElroy’s report today, the children may be without her for a while.” 

A car alarm sounded in the distance behind the hum of traffic. 

“Do you want kids, Gail?” 

“Sometimes I do,” she sighed “but that isn’t really enough is it?” 

“Hmmm,” Stella murmured in contemplation. “Being unsure of something you’ve never experienced is hardly a sin. On the contrary, I’d say it shows true humility.” 

Gail glanced at her, inquisitively.

“People tend to think that when there are children involved, it’s important to know exactly where you’re headed, but really, if you’re paving an unknown path you can at least endeavour to turn away from anything untoward. If it’s all sure and predetermined, you’ve no real control. We’re all safer around the ones who operate with some degree of uncertainty.” 

“....and Spector?” 

Stella paused for a moment. 

“He’s off-road.” she sighed. “He moves in the shadows, dragging everything he touches into the black.” 

Stella unlocked her issued car and climbed in, turning the key to half so she could switch on the heat. It was just after 9pm. She rested her head back for a moment and closed her eyes, her exhaustion as much emotionally induced as it was from lack of sleep. The day had left her too tender to envisage the true size of the fallout from Spector’s actions, her time with Olivia imparting a rawness she hadn’t yet encountered while working this case. 

Flipping on the lights in her hotel room, she turned down the dimmer switch. She hung her coat on the back of the door and stepped out of her heels, enjoying the subtle stretch in her calve muscles as she walked across the plush pile carpet. As she unclasped her bra beneath her cashmere jumper, she looked over the room service menu, knowing full well she wasn’t hungry. She’d been a detective for a long time and had seen some of the most horrific things done by the human hand, and she’d always come back for the next case. But seeing an eight year old girl so hopelessly broken, as she had today, would stay with her a long time. She was sure of it. 

In Belfast, it had been even more difficult to get a proper night’s rest than usual; an insomnia induced fog settling behind her eyes. As the case progressed, and the sleepless nights persisted, she could feel it proliferating. It was in her chest now. It was in her gut. She thought about pouring a glass of wine, but decided against it, her limbs heavy, and the bed all too inviting. Finding relief in sleep was a long shot, but having her head on the pillow felt like the next best thing. She unbuttoned her slacks and pulled them down over her thighs, stepping out of them wearily and hanging them over a chair back. Collapsing on top of the duvet, she reached for the throw blanket at the foot of the bed, and curled up beneath it. The pillow was unbelievably soft against her cheek, and the bed supported her body evenly. But the tension she was holding throughout her whole being couldn’t be touched by creature comforts. 

Stella took a deep breath and turned onto her back, reaching beneath the blanket and down between her legs. She ran the tips of her fingers lightly over her underwear, backwards and forwards. This was the way she discovered it when she was a girl. When it wasn’t about anyone else, but it was just for _that feeling_. Back then she could get herself there in a few minutes. Right now, she didn’t know if she had it in her. She just needed, badly, to relax. 

As her fingers found a firmer motion she swallowed and sighed, eyes closing as her chin came to rest on her collarbone. She pressed her free hand low into her belly and let one knee fall open as her hips found their movement. 

Exhaling long and slow, Stella focused on the brewing sensation between her legs, determined not to let thought get in the way. Her fingers quickened over her most sensitive part as she slipped her left hand under her jumper, lifting her unclasped bra away from her breast. Running the length of her middle finger lightly over her nipple, she arched her back gently, feeling it harden beneath her fingertip. She flicked at it with her index and pinched it with her thumb, and it felt _good._ It all felt good; any tension in her extremities migrating to her undulating pelvis as she circled her clit through the fabric. She stopped her breath in her throat as she tensed her muscles inside, releasing it noisily as she slipped her hand inside her underwear and flipped onto her stomach. With her wrist pinned against her hip bone she stroked herself, faster, firmer, her hips grinding against cotton and feather-down. 

She wasn’t sure initially that she’d be able to come, but the wetness in her underwear begged to differ. Shimmying the coffee coloured lace down to her thighs with one hand, she let a leg fall out of bed, moving her fingertips back and forth between her opening and her clit as she grew tighter and tighter inside. Then with growing confidence in her arousal she slipped two fingers in, expertly curling them into place. Drawing deep breaths now, she massaged the spot inside, clenching around her own fingers until finally, too emotionally drained to stifle it, she moaned in high pitch into her pillow, and her inner walls shuddered violently.

When her breathing had slowed, Stella lifted her hips off the bed and pulled up her underwear, her head heavy against the pillow. The effort it took her to roll over and flip the light switch was all that she could muster, before curling up on her side as her eyes closed of their own accord. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stella meets with Reed Smith, a few days after Croydon.

Stella woke up in her own time, having drifted off without setting her alarm. Stretching out her back and shoulders, she rolled over to look at the wall clock: _6.30am_. Not at all a bad effort for a chronic insomniac. She tugged a bra strap out of her sleeve, then the other, tossing the lacy garment aside without lifting her head from the pillow. She would call Jim in an hour, tell him she’d report in the afternoon unless there were urgent developments. They couldn’t question Spector any further until noon, and she needed to track down an update on Sally-Ann. 

She showered and slathered herself in lotion, wrapping herself in her blush silk robe as she left the bathroom. She turned on the television, muting it immediately. Although she felt somewhat rested, her head was unsurprisingly loud. 

Having laid out a white voile blouse and a black suede skirt on the comforter, she sat on the bed, phone in hand. For a moment she contemplated what she might say, then dialed before she had a chance to think any further.

“Reed Smith.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

Her voice was unmistakable. “Stella… Is everything okay?”

“I need to see you. Today, preferably.” 

“Uh… Alright,” Reed answered, somewhat surprised. “I’m on-call today, urgent only. The kids are unwell. Could you come to me?”

“Is now okay?”

“309 Allenwood Cross. We’re out in the East. It’s a bit of a drive…”

“I’ll see you soon.”

It was 9.00am by the time she arrived. The house was as she had expected, with an internal car garage in the suburbs. Reed’s hair was damp when she answered the door in her grey yoga pants and black jumper. 

“I’m a state,” she said by way of hello. “Long night.” 

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?” Stella queried with genuine concern. 

“It’s always okay, Stella,” Reed smiled sadly, leaning her back against the open door to free up the entrance. “The girls are sleeping, they may make an appearance though. We’re all feeling a little high maintenance,” she laughed quietly as Stella passed by her. 

“Make yourself at home,” Reed ordered, showing Stella to the living room. She picked a child’s jumper from the couch and threw it over her arm. “Are we ready for coffee?” 

“Can I give you a hand?”

“No, no you just relax!” she enthused over her shoulder, quite clearly taking the opportunity to collect herself as she disappeared into the kitchen. Stella smiled to herself. She really did care for Reed, having formed a fast friendship with her from early on in the case. Although they were undeniably attracted to each other, Stella cared as much for the solidarity they had found in the shared experience of their work. It was different for women, and Reed had been in the game long enough to feel that, deeply. In the aftermath of the night at the bar, it would be easy enough to navigate any potential awkwardness between them. Not so easy, however, to forget the rush she’d felt when their mouths had met. 

Reed’s home was an eclectic mix of hards and softs, not unlike she herself; Sofas with plump cream cushions against the hardwood floor, photos of her daughters hung amongst intellectual art pieces, a pair of child’s slippers peeking out from under a chest of apothecary drawers. Stella was eyeing a photograph of the two girls, dark and olive like their mother, when Reed returned with hot coffee and milk. 

“They look just like you,” Stella peered over her shoulder with a reassuring smile.

“They do…” Reed laughed nervously, setting the cups on the coffee table. She sat at one end of the sofa, crossing her legs and shuffling herself back against the arm. “As they get older, I see more of myself in them every day.” 

“Certainly not a bad way to be,” Stella mused as she joined her, mindful to maintain the space her apprehension demanded. 

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, sipping on what was one of the better cups of coffee Stella had tasted in weeks. 

“Sally-Ann’s being assessed for her fitness to care for the children. It doesn’t look… promising” Stella lamented, casting her eyes down. 

“Oh God,” Reed pained, “those poor little ones. Can you imagine how confused they must be?”

Stella rubbed her lips together, “Olivia started her period at the station yesterday” she explained. Her voice laced in slow frustration. 

Reed furrowed her brow in sympathy.

“It was completely cruel. She didn’t want Sally-Ann. She wouldn’t talk.” Stella paused, resting her head against the back of the couch. “She’s eight years old.” 

“That could be down to stress,” Reed offered tenderly. 

“Mmmm” Stella nodded in agreement, her steely blue eyes wet and glistening. “Another ripple in the wake of The Belfast Strangler, also known as Daddy.” 

As the morning passed they moved from coffee to tea, reflecting on the perils of the modern world; the vulnerability of the family unit, the pressure on children to grow up too fast, the incongruence of caring and protecting fiercely while knowing you’re never in complete control–everything of the like. By the time they had exhausted the subject they were two cups of tea down, Reed stretching out her socked feet, Stella’s stilettos lined up neatly on the floor. 

“I’d better check on the girls,” Reed exhaled somewhat reluctantly, the morning’s chat a cathartic release after their last meeting. 

Stella nodded, swallowing the last of her tea and putting down her cup. “May I use your bathroom?” 

“Of course,” she offered, directing Stella to the hallway. 

“Wait, look at this,” Reed whispered, opening a side door. Her youngest daughter was fast asleep, the curtains closed to mute the morning light. Stella looked on from the doorway as Reed adjusted the bed blankets and stroked her daughter’s flushed cheeks with the back of her hand. 

She closed the door softly. “Poor thing, she barely slept last night.” 

“Mummy as well, I imagine” Stella smiled, noticing Reed’s previously damp hair now settled in soft waves. 

“That _is_ how it works,” she laughed knowingly in reply. “Bathroom’s on the left.”

Stella peed hurriedly, the tea and coffee barking at her bladder. She washed and dried her hands, wondering if she’d recognise the scent of the soap. She didn’t. Dragging a hand lightly through her hair, she studied her reflection, momentarily considering peeking into the medicine cabinet before deciding against it. In consolation, she picked up the bottle of Gaultier perfume sitting in plain view on the vanity, spritzing it into the air. _That_ , she was familiar with. 

When she returned from the bathroom, Reed was in the kitchen. Stella walked through, tentatively entering into the private space. She watched as Reed poured two short glasses of orange juice, diluting them down with water. 

“I’d better head off,” Stella sighed, both enjoying this domestic atmosphere, and feeling slightly guilty. “I’ve got to be at the station.” 

“I’ll walk you out,” Reed spouted, joining Stella in the hallway.

“It’s fine. Go and take care of those little girls." She met Reed’s eyes with a warm and knowing gaze.

Then suddenly, briefly, but not surprisingly, Reed kissed her softly on the mouth. 

After a moment, “I –”

“Don’t say anything,” Stella interjected, squeezing her hand gently. “We’re just fine.”

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The issue that was "Croydon" begins to fade....

Stella left quietly. By the time she was sitting in the driver’s seat she couldn’t remember closing the front door. Not even the shrillness of her ringtone could bring her completely into the present. 

“Gibson.” 

She pressed her lips against the pad of her thumb, preserving the sensation of soft pressure. 

“It’s Ferrington Ma’am, there’s been a development. A body’s been found; female, late 20s, early 30s, dark hair...” 

Her reverie dissolved in the sound of the ignition. 

“Give me a location, Dani.” 

.......... 

It hadn’t been Rose Stagg, but the tragedy was of some use. It was late the following night when Stella pulled up to the Belfast Mortuary Service. Reed was still in her office recording the attributes and abnormalities her examination elicited. Her conclusion: Probable suicide. Confirmation dependant on toxicology findings. 

Stella settled herself on the sofa while Reed finished looking over her work; the tapping of the computer keyboard purring against the silence of the otherwise empty building. Succumbing to the heaviness of her eyelids, she welcomed the stillness.

“You look like you’re ready for sleep” Reed remarked after some time, shutting off the computer and sitting on the arm of the sofa. 

“Mmmm,” Stella murmured, her head lolling toward her with a drowsy smile. 

Reed inhaled deeply into her belly, in an attempt to appease what was now an all-too-familiar tension. It’d been with her ever since she’d left Stella by the elevator; that night when spontaneity had been no match for her sobering rationale. Things had been difficult since then. She’d been short with the kids, and impatient with her colleagues. Uninvolved. Removed. Inaccessible. It wasn’t until she’d finally seen Stella again - that time, in her own living room - that she allowed herself to piece it all together. 

“I should get changed,” Reed mused contrarily, slipping into the spot vacated for her on the sofa.

Stella looked past her with a faraway gaze. She looked so peaceful in this moment, unbefitting with the events of the day. 

“What are you thinking?” Reed whispered. 

“Oh, everything and nothing,” Stella breathed, returning slowly from somewhere distant. 

_God Stella, what are you doing to me?_

“You okay?” Stella murmured sleepily.

“I am now...”

If their first kiss was champagne, this was whiskey. A haze of sensuality swallowed down in sweet smokey sips, blissfully building with every mouthful. Reed felt the weeks of tension melt away as Stella ran her fingers up the back of her neck. She slipped them behind her hair tie, sliding it down her satin smooth ponytail in one stroke. In that moment, with Stella’s mouth on hers, and her delicate fingers raking through her hair, Reed was amazed to find that she herself had never felt so beautiful. 

Slipping underneath Reed’s scrub top, Stella brushed her back with her fingertips, blindly exploring the band of her bra. She buried her face in Reed’s hair as she released the clasp, breathing in a decadent violet scent. It was completely at odds with the sterility of medical scrubs, but only on Reed did it fuse electric, like chocolate and chilli.

Stella inhaled Reed’s sigh as she caressed her tongue with her own, pressing her to supine against the sofa. Eyeballing her for any hint of uncertainty, she pushed back medical-grade cotton, exposing the fleshiness of Reed's belly. 

“Not what I once was,” Reed offered coyly, shielding the residual markings of her pregnancies. 

Stella covered her hand with her own, interlacing their fingers, and stroking the delicate skin with her bottom lip. 

“As if it’s possible that you ever could have been more beautiful than this.” 

Reed threaded her fingers through Stella’s hair, stitching the curls with her pent-up desire. She controlled her exhale as Stella’s mouth moved to her earlobe, her jawline, her collarbone; every nerve ending alive as her breasts were exposed, fingertips tracing their underside, and then it was tongue, teasing her nipple. Limbs slackened, she arched her back into the sensation as Stella’s lips drew her in, arousing an insistent pulse between her legs. 

Taking the cue, Stella traced her fingers along the centre seam of Reed’s scrub pants, cupping her possessively as she slipped her thumb beneath the waistband; and with the tiniest of hip movements, she felt Reed suppress the urge to rub against her hand. 

“Hey you,” she purred softly, resting the length of her body against her. “Go with it.” 

Stella swallowed Reed’s giggle, answering it with her tongue, then replaced her mouth with her fingertips. She felt Reed’s lips twitch beneath her hand in a friction-seeking whimper, hips squirming against her touch. The slightest of sighs escaped Stella as her fingers found lace under Reed’s scrubs. Dipping beneath her androgynous professional facade was so desperately sexy, like biting down on a thick-skinned grape, tasting it’s sugary surrender. 

The brush against her softness was painfully tantalising as Reed felt Stella pulling her underwear to one side. She groaned softly as Stella tortured her further, playfully stroking her outer folds. By the time Stella’s fingertips met with her clit, Reed was digging her fingernails into the side of the couch, aching for contact. 

Her breath quickened as Stella worked her. Circling, teasing, building something beyond exquisite. And with that, she entered her with her fingers, curling them eagerly against her pleasure point. She came like a thunderclap, like she’d been holding her breath, like she’d never ventured out into the storm. 

Bringing her down gently, Stella pulled the last of it out along with her fingers. She slid herself onto the floor and rested her head against Reed’s abdomen, watching intently as she came back to Earth. 

Reed brought Stella’s hand to her lips, kissing the backs of her fingers. 

“God Stella,” she laughed languidly. “Was that the height of all selfishness?” 

“Next time” Stella whispered, a contemplative glint in her eye. 

“Will you tolerate my naïveté?” 

Stella chuckled flirtatiously under her breath. “Oh, you’ll know.”

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stella wrestles with herself, her wants, and her sentiments.

“I think I’ve become one with the couch,” Reed laughed, her eyes closing in an oxytocin induced repose.

“I can tell,” Stella murmured, grunting softly as she picked herself up off the floor. She rubbed her hands over her backside where she’d lost feeling from sitting on the carpet.Leaning against the arm of the sofa, she bent down, pecking softly at Reed’s jawbone.

“It’s time to wake up, Professor” she whispered, her hand coming to rest on Reed’s upper thigh.

Reed squeezed her legs together and sighed, willing herself to step out of the moment. It had to be approaching midnight by now.

“You’ll give me a moment to get changed?” she asked, peeling herself off the couch and straightening her scrubs.

“Mmmm, take your time” Stella murmured, catching one last eyeful of turquoise and sinking into the sofa.

Reed giggled under her breath as she caught Stella’s eye line, “I’ll see you in a minute, Gibson.”

Stella rested her eyes for a moment, only to be interrupted by her cellphone buzzing in her handbag. She grabbed for it hastily, assuming the worst at this time of the night. The screen flashed low battery, then immediately flicked to black. _Shit._ Praying the alert had been only the battery dying, she looked around the room for a wall clock. There wasn’t one. _Not a stickler for time, Prof. Reed Smith?_ She thought to herself, casting her eye over the desk. Thankfully, a wristwatch with a black leather strap lay next to the computer. _11.45pm._ With a presumably eventful day ahead, it would seem another overnight at the station was in order. She returned the watch to Reed’s desk, catching a glimpse of a small framed photograph in the process; two little girls with shiny black hair, deep brown eyes, and smooth olive skin. You’d have to be blind to not see the likeness.

..........

Stella scanned her temporary PSNI ID, entering into the half light of the station lobby. She tried to forget the fact that the building was never truly empty as she made her way to her office. Nights at the station were like filling a hungry belly with black coffee; the bare minimum of personal cares and a few hours of sorely needed shut-eye, in exchange for an early morning . She let herself into her office, avoiding the overhead light and opting instead for the desk lamp, in an attempt to quiet the atmosphere. A few of the essentials Dani had collected from her hotel room on her first day as S.I.O. were still in her desk drawer for overnights. She gathered together a toothbrush and toothpaste, a bottle of cleanser, and a night cream, before heading out to the bathroom.

She returned to her office with the taste of toothpaste on her tongue. Rummaging through her handbag, she retrieved her leather bound dream journal, and a bottle of white tea creme deodorant, setting the items on the floor next to the camping stretcher the PSNI had acquainted her with. There was an overnight bag tucked underneath the bed, and Stella could barely remember what was inside. She hooked the handle with her foot and dragged it out into the room, hoping to find something soft to sleep in. Pleasingly, she found a jumper she’d worn as an extra layer on a late night in-office, so she removed both her top, and her bra. The fine knit of the jumper was soothing as it brushed over her bare skin, and the familiar scent of her deodorant comforted her as she applied it. She stretched out her neck while she hung up the garments she had removed, before turning off the lamp and slipping into her sleeping bag, hoping to harness the drowsiness she was beginning to feel.

It took her eyes a long time to adjust in the darkness when she woke, as she felt around on the floor for her phone. _2.55am._ She flipped on the desk lamp and reached for her journal, her stomach turning disconcertingly as she put pen to paper.

_Reed’s home, East Belfast. Her daughter is in her bedroom, crying. Reed can’t get to her because I’m standing in the doorway. I want to move, but I can’t._

She placed the journal on the floor and rolled over, her arms wrapped tightly over her chest. Whenever she closed her eyes they rebelled, so she lay in the dark, staring at the wall, willing her heart to return to its resting pace.

..........

It was conclusive. Within two days they’d managed to confirm the presence of both Joe Brawley’s DNA, and Spector’s fingerprints on the murder weapon. The strength of the evidence was enough to further arrest Spector, and Stella had an officer in mind.

Gail looked almost childlike, curled up on the sofa at the quiet end of her department. Stella momentarily felt a sense of peace wash over her as she watched her sleeping, breathing softly with her knees tucked to her chest. She perched herself on the edge of the sofa and softly grasped Gail’s lower leg, endeavouring to rouse her as gently as she could. But for all of her efforts, Gail jolted awake and was upright within seconds, as though feeling guilty for her own exhaustion.

“Yes, Ma’am” she choked, her voice thick and sleepy.

Stella breathed calm into the moment, refusing to acknowledge Gail’s needless air of apology. She cast her eye’s over her mahogany locks, twisted conservatively into a bun and held by a single hairband.

“May I?” she queried, loosening the elastic without waiting for a response.

Gail’s eyes roamed anxiously, settling on Stella’s face while she was occupied exploring the length of her hair. She was close enough to smell Stella’s perfume, close enough to see the wisdom lines around her eyes. Her attempts to breath at a normal rate were futile, and she was somewhat relieved when Stella began to explain herself.

“There’s something I’d like you to do.”

..........

Stella left Jim in the cell floor corridor, without a word. Spector had confessed and would be formally charged later that night, but the moment was flavourless. As she made her way back through the station, she didn’t let herself to relive a single moment of their interview. The only concern she allowed herself to entertain: _Where are you Rose?_

As she passed by the break room, Stella noticed Gail sitting at the table, her head in her hands. She had changed into her button down and slacks but her long dark hair remained loose, shrouding her face from the world. 

“You did well today.”

Gail started, brushing her hair behind her ears, “thank you, Ma’am.”

Stella leaned against the doorframe, noting the tension Gail held in her forehead. “Are you alright?” she queried, gently.

Ever stoic, Gail employed her finely honed poker-face as she nodded in reply.

“Gail…”

Her facade began to soften as Stella moved to join her. She pulled a chair up to the table, patiently observing Gail’s feeble attempt to hold herself together.

“Was it the interview?”

“No. It wasn’t” Gail explained slowly, her eyes cast down at the tabletop.

Stella recrossed her legs, allowing the security of the moment time to cultivate.

Gail began slowly, “I’m not myself… I’m so sleepy and lethargic, all the time. And nauseous…”

Stella exhaled softly, furrowing her brow with a knowing concern.

“… my period’s really late.”

Stella’s eyes followed Gail’s red, polished nails as she raked her fingers through the length of her hair, in an attempt to soothe her simmering anxiety.

“I figured as much. How late are you?”

“Four and a half weeks, now.”

They sat for a moment, the revelation permeating the break room along with the hum of the refrigerator.When she spoke again, Stella chose her words carefully.

“Be brave, Gail. You don’t need to have all the answers. But you do owe it to yourself to know for sure.”

..........

Stella made her way to the stairwell, the station air tasting stale. Spector’s voice was in her head, and that very fact had her feeling wounded.

_You’re a barren spinster so you wouldn’t know, but small children take up all of your time._

When she made it to the rooftop she breathed in the evening’s cool freshness, drawing it down to the bottom of her lungs. The night sky was clear, and it should have been beautiful. But its impact couldn’t obscure Stella's image of Gail in a short skirt and a low neckline, her harlot red fingernails pressed against her as she unconsciously shielded her lower abdomen. Nor could it eclipse the little girls with glossy black pigtails, or the smaller of the two, crying alone in her bedroom.

Stella leaned against the railing at the edge of the roof. She tugged her fingers through her hair, pulling gently at her scalp.

“I hear that Spector requested you.”

Reed’s voice was like an analgesic as she joined Stella at the railing. It was exactly what she needed, and that frightened her more than a little.

“Is it right to say, Congratulations?” Reed continued.

“We’re moving in the right direction,” Stella offered quietly, looking out over the city.

A car revved noisily, speeding down the otherwise deserted street. They listened as its mechanical roar faded into the distance, and the distant hum of the city centre regained its equilibrium.

“What was it like?” Reed queried, gently.

“He’d like to think he got into my head.”

“And did he?”

Stella took a deep breath, shutting her eyes in an attempt at abandon.

_You’re a very self-observant person, Stella. I doubt you’ve ever fully given yourself to anyone. I doubt you ever truly lose yourself._

She said nothing, her heart racing and her eyes brimming. Rose was still missing, and she’d unknowingly put a presumably pregnant colleague in the most overwhelming of professional situations. The only thing that was bringing her any relief was Reed, sharing the space in which she breathed. _But it was wrong_. Until she felt Reed's hand, the pad of her thumb swiping the tear on her cheek, and it couldn’t have been more right.

For Stella especially, being kissed was something very different from kissing. Something rare, and vulnerable. But in this moment, it was everything she needed, and more than she could ever want. And while that was terrifying, right now she was melting, and it was all she could think about. She whimpered as Reed entered her mouth with her tongue, relenting as her kiss deepened.

When they slowed, there was no space left between them, as chest to chest, forehead to forehead, they held each other in the stillness; their breath mingling together before dissipating into the vastness of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one has read this chapter at all soooo please let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, it means a lot!!!


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